


There Will Never Be Another You

by jaibhagwan



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drama & Romance, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Intimacy, Sexual Situations, You know like characters actually talking to each other, bed sharing, season 10
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:41:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23101111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaibhagwan/pseuds/jaibhagwan
Summary: A tragedy brought them together, and Daryl was damned if he was going to let another one tear them apart.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Carol Peletier
Comments: 7
Kudos: 43





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This begins somewhere between S10E07 and E08. But fuck canon.
> 
> Many thanks to Emily for being my sounding board.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own these characters but I love 'em to death.

Daryl was restless in his sleep. It felt like he was tossing and turning all night as the candles burned low. He wasn't exactly sure when he agreed to come to Hilltop to help fix the breach in the wall. Especially during the middle of this shitstorm with the Whisperers and Carol half out of her mind with grief and revenge. He should be looking out for her. She needed someone to watch her back. 

Someone was playing an old jazz album on the phonograph. The soft, smooth croon of a saxophone wafted across the sultry night air. It was a strange thing to be playing in the middle of the night knowing that it could attract walkers. Yet, the song was rather soothing, so he listened to the tenor notes and soon found himself drifting off to sleep again.

Suddenly, there was a gentle knock on his door. It jolted him awake.

"Yeah, it's open," he grumbled from the bed, his voice was deep and raspy from lack of sleep.

The door creaked open slowly. "Daryl?"

He sat up immediately at the sound of Carol's voice. She was supposed to be in Alexandria. He panicked. "What are you doin' here? Everything alright?" 

"It's fine,” she said quietly as she stepped inside, closing the door behind her. “Everyone's okay. I just couldn't sleep."

Somewhat relieved, Daryl sighed, but the shadows cast on her pale face by the flickering candlelight reminded him of the hour. "It's the middle of the night, Carol."

"I know, but I figured you were probably awake, too," she explained as she approached him. 

Frowning, he glanced out the window. "It's pitch black outside," he argued, disturbed by the unnecessary risk to her safety. "You tryin' to give me a heart attack?"

"I was careful. Promise." 

She perched at the edge of the bed, smelling pleasantly like fresh soap. He took a deep breath and let out a frustrated sigh, realizing there was nothing he could do about it now. At least he knew she was safe. 

"I just… I wanted to see you. Did you miss me?" She flashed him a large grin, and his heart skipped a beat.

"Can't lie. Been worried." Leaning back casually, he put his hands behind him for support.

Carol reached out her delicate fingers to smooth the hair from his eyes. It always felt nice and calming when she did that, yet something was still troubling him about her presence. 

"I'm fine,” she said stiffly. “You don't have to worry about me."

With a pained expression, Daryl released his disbelief with another puff of air. "Fine? Since when? You ain't been yourself since—" He stopped himself. He didn't want her to think about Henry.

But it was too late. Grief fell like a heavy stone across her features. "Shit. M’sorry,” he said, clasping her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’s late, and I wasn't thinkin'."

"No, you're right, Daryl. I'm not okay."

He drew back the covers on the bed, encouraging her to rest her head. "C'mon, you came all this way you should at least get some sleep."

Without arguing, Carol laid down in the bed, and he settled beside her, pulling the blanket up around them snugly. A strand of her long, white hair fell across her face. Gently, he swept it away. Her sad blue eyes gazed up at him, and he felt a twinge of pain in his chest, for everything she had lost was evident there and written into the lines on her face.

"I'm tired of feeling this way," she lamented.

Another pang raked through his chest, shredding him. She had been struggling for weeks with insurmountable grief. Since she returned, it hadn't seemed like she was getting any better. He hated the helpless feeling that gnawed at him when he saw her suffering.

"I know," said Daryl, his knuckle brushing tenderly across her cheek. "Wish I could make it better for you."

"Maybe you can," she said softly. His scalp began to tingle as she combed her fingers through his hair. "At least for a little while." 

He wasn't sure what she meant until her hands slid past the collar of his shirt, down to his chest. Hesitating at the top button, she rolled the fabric between her fingers, barely grazing his skin which began to prickle. His breath hitched while her eyes began searching his for any objection. 

Half in shock by her actions, Daryl froze while his throat constricted. With equal surprise, he quickly discovered that he could find no reason within him to stop her. His mind went completely blank. There was only the tender feeling of her fingers caressing his flesh and a heated tension thickening in the space between them. Swallowing a lump, he continued to stare at her with a bewildered gaze, his eyes growing darker with the simmering realization that deep down he didn't want her to stop. His breath came a little faster as she slowly proceeded to unfasten the button.

"Touch me," she whispered so lightly it electrified the hairs already standing on end along his neck; he could almost hear the spark of ignition jolting his heartbeat into a full throttle as she pulled his hand to rest on her chest.

Her skin was warm, and he could feel a quickening in her chest beneath his fingertips. A pounding of her heart which kept cadence with the rapid pace of his own that was now clamoring in thrilling alarm. 

The blood careening through his veins finally made it into his brain. "Carol," he warned her, unable to withdraw his hand. They shouldn't be doing this.

"Please?" 

There was an urgency in her delicate tone that cut him open and her plea began to snake under his skin, burrowing beneath the cracks in his armor which had started to crumble the moment she walked in, striking at something tender, vulnerable, inside him. Her eyes grew watery. In that very moment, Daryl knew he was fucked because he felt absolutely and utterly powerless. Powerless over her sad blue eyes. Powerless over Carol. He could deny her nothing.

Letting his fingers caress her skin, he gently traced the line of her collarbone to soothe her. Good Lord, she was soft. So soft. Softer than he would have imagined, especially since Carol was so tough. But then again, he shouldn’t have been surprised because she had always intrigued him. She was layered. Complex. Both strong and fragile. Light and dark. Heavy, yet graceful. She was an enigma he had yet to solve.

Like she knew the answer, her arms enveloped him, drawing him closer until her lips were at his ear. Her breath was hot and tingly against his skin. He felt a stirring below his belt. An awakening of a strange yearning from deep within his bones. A yearning that rippled out along his skin. Growing. Intensifying. Hardening.

"I need you, Daryl." Her breathy voice set his skin ablaze. His heart was truly pounding now, blood thumping in his ears. "I need you closer."

Danger throbbed in his head.

"Carol," he gasped, pleading with her, knowing he should put an end to this. She wasn't thinking right. This was all wrong.

But his body disagreed. He wanted to be closer. Much closer. The aching bulge straining in his pants made him unable to deny it. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he had been hard. It had been years. _Decades_. 

As her warm lips brushed against his, he found himself unable to resist kissing her back. Hesitant and chaste at first, the exploratory kiss soon blossomed into a passionate embrace as Carol’s tongue pressed between his lips. Hot and wet, it slowly swirled and tangled around his, taking his breath away. Wave upon wave of electricity twisted and swelled in his veins, saturating his senses. A dizzying assault, the heated urgency coiling inside him grew burdensome, begging to be released. Uncontrollably, his pelvis thrusted forward, grinding into her hip, sending shockwaves of sensation zinging down his shaft.

Daryl groaned against her open mouth unable to contain the delicious surge of pleasure coursing through him. With sudden haste, her trembling fingers fluttered over the buttons on his shirt as she rapidly released them one by one. As she started to push it over his shoulders, her fingers searing his skin, he drew back abruptly, halting her movement, and fixed her with a steady gaze. 

Her eyes were black as the night and filled with grief and something else. Something deeper. Darker. It made him uneasy. He still had no idea about her plans for the future.

The feel of her touch was beginning to overwhelm him. Her hands skimmed across his bare chest, teasing his flesh, driving him mad with the need to claim her. To make her his. In a moment of clarity, Daryl reached up and stilled them. They needed to talk about this. He needed Carol to know his terms before they continued.

"No more runnin' off on your own," he asserted firmly.

She agreed with a nod. "I won’t."

He chewed his lip nervously. "What about the King? You still love him?"

Carol shook her head. "I tried. I do care for him, but it was just a fairy tale. It wasn't real.” Her hands came up to cup his face. “I love _you_ , Daryl. And I know you love me."

His cock filled and lifted, throbbing in confirmation. _Yes._ It was about damn time she realized it.

Gratified by her response, he gathered her into his arms and kissed her with abandon. There was nothing holding him back now. The walls suppressing his desire for her began to crumble, his heart fully opening to her. Only her. Carol. _Yes._ He loved her. Completely and totally. Every cell in his body enlivened as it called out for her attention; he craved her. Wanted her. Wanted to be inside her. _Yes!_ Exultant, his body flooded with emotion as everything he felt for her was finally unleashed. It was intense. It was overwhelming. It was—

Unstoppable. 

_Oh, shit,_ he panicked as the pressure constricting in his balls began to release. _Oh, fuck, no_. He tried to pull away, but it was too late. From the base of his spine, a warm, wet rush of white heat suddenly tore through him.

"Daryl!"

He startled awake, orienting himself. The sticky disaster in his pants promptly brought him back to his crushing reality. His ass was stiff from sitting on the cold stone step in front of the house. They'd had an argument earlier about Lydia, Daryl recalled, and he had been sitting on the stoop, waiting for Carol to return. He must have fallen asleep. And now, quite mortifyingly, she was looking straight at him with worry in her eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Daryl blinked, hoping that he was still dreaming. He could survive another nightmare, but this— _oh, God_ — _this_ was so much worse. Insufferable. His face burned like hell.

Fucking. Hell _._ That’s exactly where he was.

"You alright?" Carol inquired with a deep crease in her brow. "Sounded like a good dream...until it didn't."

“M’fine," he said gruffly, recoiling from her as he turned and stood abruptly. He couldn't look her in the eye. He was two steps into flight when her small, anguished voice ensnared him, halting his escape.

"I'm sorry."

 _Shit._ Regret instantly besieged him. His tone had been too harsh, too automatic and defensive; he had wanted to make amends too, not drive them further apart. But Christ, he never thought it would be _this_ difficult. He clenched his hands at his sides, fighting to gain a little composure.

"Ain't you," he apologized, staring down at his boots that seemed rooted to the ground and feeling more than a little surprised he was still standing there. He always ran. It was what he did. Even now, his mind raced thinking of all the holes he could climb into. Places he could hide and not be found. _Ever._ Blood was rushing in his ears, pouring into his legs, screaming for him to go.

But he didn't.

He _couldn't_.

"You have every right to be mad at me. To never speak to me again.”

Never speak to her again? Was that an option? _Fuck_ , he didn’t think he could ever _look_ at her again.

But _no_. That wasn’t an option. Not with that pitiful tone plaguing her voice. But what was he supposed to do? Guilt roiled in his gut. Daryl sucked in a breath, convincing himself to focus on the bigger picture. To remember what was at stake other than his pride. Blowing the air out from his lungs, he willed his taut frame to relax.

Gradually, his heartbeat dwindled to a steady pulse. "Ain't mad," he tossed tenderly over his shoulder, still averting his gaze. "M'worried."

"Well, I'm mad at me," she confessed. He could hear her rustling behind him as she sat down at the top of the stairs. "I just— I don't know, Daryl. I've lost my way. And I don't even know if I can find my way back."

The agony in her guilt-ridden voice finally had him turning around to study her. Collapsed in a heap on the stairs like a fallen angel, she looked devastated, ruinous wet trails wreaking havoc on her face. Her head bowed in disgrace. Locks of frazzled white hair, straying from a bun loosely tied at her neck, drooped pathetically around her sunken cheeks. Disheveled and lackluster, she was an effigy of brooding grief. His chest constricted and grew heavy. There was a distant ringing in his ears. _I need you, Daryl._ The remnants of his dream sifted through him, chafing his belly where the seeds of the wicked truth remained, implanted and undeniable, and he knew.

And he knew. Awkward as this was, there was no way he could leave her. He was powerless.

"I should have listened to you," she continued, her tone edging towards shrill. "I _never_ should have gotten her involved. God, I must be out of my mind." She started to shake, clearly on the verge of falling apart.

The band in his chest tugged a little more, tethering him to her. This weary bird of sorrow who looked ready to drown herself. More than anything in the world, he wanted her to find her wings. To soar again. Up into the light and away from her darkness. And he _knew_. The words echoed again inside his chest. _I need you closer._ Abandoning his discomfort, Daryl’s feet finally moved, ushering him towards Carol as he climbed the steps to sit beside her in dutiful resignation. "You did what you thought you had to."

"But it wasn't right, was it?" 

Daryl swallowed his response. It hadn't been her best decision, but it wasn't the worst either. And it was obvious she was beating herself up over it. He refused to add to her misery.

"I was so convinced. Until— until she just…ran off. She ran…from _me_."

Her guilt was so pervasive, he felt it creeping into the marrow of his bones. Heavy. Daryl's brows drew together, his mind flashing back to a highway embankment, picturing that fateful day so many years ago. This wasn't just about Lydia, he realized.

"We'll find her," he assured Carol, his voice strong and determined as he reached deep into his diminished reserve to find a shred of confidence to bestow upon her. "She's smart. Hell, she's lived among the dead for most of her life. She'll be okay out there."

But his words did nothing to assuage her. Haunted, her face retained the abject misery inflicted by her many losses and regrets. Carol shook her head. "I screwed up, Daryl. She's right, I _am_ just like her. _Like Alpha_." She punctuated the words half in horror, half in disgust.

Grimacing, he put his arm around her, hugging her to his side, shushing her nonsense. "You ain't nothin' like her, Carol. Not at all. You're angry, sure. You got every right to be." His brow wrinkled as he paused to carefully consider his next words. "But all this revenge shit is just eatin’ you up. She’s not worth losin' _you_."

“It’s all I think about," she admitted. "There's just this... blinding rage. And it's about the only thing that gets me out of bed in the morning. I can’t even—” She shook her head, unable to complete her thought. Letting out a weighted breath, she wiped her wet cheeks with her sleeve before continuing. “It scares me what I can do. The things I've done? What I want to do? I don't know if I can stop it, Daryl. Or if I even want to."

Twisting and churning, apprehension snarled in his gut. His grip tightened on her arm. "You can keep tryin’. You already are. Why else would you be sittin' here beatin' yourself up over Lydia?"

Carol's face crumpled. "It's not just Lydia," she said, shaking her head and confirming his suspicion. "Or Henry. It’s all of it. All of them. Everything. I don't think I can come back from it. Maybe I shouldn’t.”

Daryl worried his lip, racking his brain, trying to find the right thing to say while the knot in his stomach cinched tighter and tighter. “Sounds like you’re givin’ up.” His voice was strained, teetering in alarm.

“What does it matter?” she asked hopelessly.

Pushed to the edge, he grabbed her chin, lifting it sharply to glare at her. “It matters! _You_ matter!”

Her face steeled against his anger, her tone becoming sour and accusatory. “You don’t even know what I’ve done!”

His control slipped as the knot snapped in his gut, and he flung his hand wide in frustration. "How can I when you don’t talk to me anymore? What? You don’t trust me?"

Carol softened at the hurt in his voice he knew he couldn’t hide. “No, that’s not it. I trust you. I just... _can’t_. It’s too awful.” She started to retreat, drawing up her shoulders like she was trying to hide away.

Daryl sighed heavily, realizing he needed to regain his calm if he truly wanted to help her. “Maybe you’re just makin’ it worse ‘cause you keep pushin’ it away and pretendin’ it ain’t there. But it’s there. Stuck in your head.” He knew a thing or two about suffering.

“In a loop. It never stops.”

His hand came to rest on her shoulder. “It’s too big to keep locked inside. There’s no room left for anything else. You gotta let it out, Carol,” he pleaded with her. “Lighten the load a little bit, hmm? That’s the only way it can change.”

She looked at him with surprise as if the idea was a novel one. “You think it can?”

He nodded. It had to.

Folding her arms across her torso, Carol gripped at her sides as if she was trying to hold it all in. Nervously, she started to rock. "It was after the prison,” she said, her voice, tight and thin, enfeebled by the weight of her sorrow. “What happened with Tyreese and the girls?"

Oh, _that_. That deep, dark secret she'd kept hidden. That impenetrable wall of silence that had been wedged between them, growing thicker, pushing them apart. Her fortress of despair. It killed him that she’d wanted to keep that distance. Killed him. He wanted to take a sledgehammer and tear it down. _Make her see_. Instead, he calmly took a breath and released it. Slowly. _No_. It was better to be patient. He had to be.

He had to be gentle. It was the only way this was ever gonna work. Nodding, he patted her arm, encouraging her to continue.

Carol looked away, staring off into the distance like she was remembering. Her face suddenly blanched and her body went rigid; she stopped breathing. Whatever it was, it clearly terrified her. Daryl squeezed her arm gently, reassuring her. Reminding her. She was always safe with him. _Always._ No matter what.

"Hey," he said, coaxing her in a soft, low voice. One finger lifted her chin to meet his gaze. "It's just me.” He caressed her cheek with his thumb. “Lemme help you carry it. I _want_ to."

Another tear cascaded down her face and he brushed it away. Carol searched his eyes like she was trying to find a reason to not believe him. But it was true. To his relief, she started to breathe again, releasing a shuddering puff of air. Her voice came out in a distant monotone as she began to recount the events.

"After Rick kicked me out, I drove around for a bit. Maybe hours, I don’t know. I thought maybe I'd stay out there for a day or two, let him come to reason. But the next morning, I saw the flames and knew something terrible had happened. By the time I got back to the prison, the fences were down. People were scattering. There were walkers everywhere. I saw Tyreese escape with Lizzie and Mika and Judith. I had to go around the prison to pick up their trail and was eventually able to catch up with them. Fortunately, Tyreese didn’t know what I had done, and I didn’t plan to tell him. Not yet. The girls needed both of us.

"We headed to Terminus, hoping to meet up with the rest of you. After a night on the train tracks, we found a house nested among a few pecan trees. A large homestead. And I was relieved. It was a little safer for the girls than out in the woods. Mika,” her voice began to crack, releasing the tears that were welling in her eyes, “even said she wanted to live there. She was so innocent. It worried me that she wasn’t adapting. How vulnerable that made her. And with Lizzie— God, I should’ve seen it coming.”

Carol started to tremble, her voice shaking as she continued. "I— I was inside the h-house, roasting some pecans when— when I saw her in the yard, _playing_ with a walker."

There was an edge to Carol's voice that made the hairs on his neck stand on end.

"She was _laughing_. She thought it was funny."

"Who did?" asked Daryl, trying to follow.

"Lizzie,” she said with a shiver.

Crossing her arms in front of her chest, she held herself tightly. “So I ran out there, and put a knife through its skull. It made her so angry, the way she was screaming at me. It was as if I'd killed her best friend.” She shook her head. “And I don't know why I didn't understand it then. She was confused about them. I should have made the connection. You know, back at the prison she had this habit of naming the walkers. Of making up stories about them. Like they were real.”

Carol’s voice darkened. “I shouldn't have left her alone with them."

Her guilt was palpable, sharp and jagged as it cut its way across the plane of her face. Daryl tried to comfort her by rubbing her back in soft, short strokes.

"We didn't go very far. Tyreese and I just went to fetch some water at the well. But it was long enough. When we returned, Mika—” Carol gasped “—was laying on the ground. There was _blood_ all around her."

“Jesus," Daryl cursed under his breath as a chill ran down his spine.

"And Judith...was playing right beside her in a pool of her blood. _'I'll show you,'_ Lizzie said to me. The knife was still in her hand."

She turned to Daryl. Her face was eclipsed in a terrible shadow and there was horror etched into her voice. "She was just _waiting_ there for her to turn. She was going to kill Judith, too. I could see it in her eyes. I don't even know how I convinced her to give me the knife.”

Carol paused, her gaze drifting, and began to wring her hands.

"Tyreese took her inside with Judith while I buried Mika. I tried to think of all the outcomes, and they all ended the same. Someone else was going to die. Tyreese wouldn't have been able to manage Judith on his own. And it didn't feel right sending him off to be with Lizzie. She couldn't be trusted, and he...trusted too easily. There wasn't another choice. I had to—”

Crumbling, Carol released a desperate howl.

"I killed Lizzie, Daryl."

Her eyes were crimson clouds and woefully storming with her pain when she turned to look at him. And it felt as if his very soul was being torn asunder, ripped into ribbons and pitched into the swirling chaos.

Pulling her close, he wrapped her in his arms as she came undone.

"I killed her," she wept into his shoulder.

His arms tightened, holding her together as she shook in her grief.

She had faced an impossible choice. All this time, it had been eating her up inside. What she had to do. What she sacrificed. He ached at the unfairness of it all. He ached for her pain. Her sobs were so powerful as they racked her frame, she nearly started choking. “S’okay,” he murmured, stroking her back, soothing her heartbreak. “S’okay.” He pressed his lips to the crown of her head as he chanted his devotion. “I got you. I got you. I got you.”

Clutching her to his chest, he rocked her gently through wave after wave of her sorrow, her tears drenching his shirt. It gutted him, but he was glad she was finally letting it out.

And letting him in.

"It wasn’t your fault. There was nothin’ else you could do," he stated firmly. "You kept Judith safe. Tyreese. And yourself, too. Hell, Carol, you were just tryin' to survive."

"She was just a child!” she cried, wresting herself from his arms, agony contorting her face as she rejected his consolation. “I was supposed to protect her! I didn’t know…I didn't know…I didn’t know how to—” With glazed eyes, she stared off into the darkness. “That's when I told Tyreese that I was the one who killed Karen and David."

Daryl held his breath, his shoulders tensing with dread. Her story just kept getting worse.

"I wanted him to get angry. I needed him to—"

 _No_!

He threw his arms around her, clasping her tightly, needing to feel her in his arms to appease his own fear. Burying his nose in her hair, smelling her, he reminded himself that he had her.

He had her.

She had wanted to die, he realized. She still did. It was all starting to make sense to Daryl. Her recklessness. Her guilt had been unbearable. And Henry had been the glue holding her together.

In his own way, Daryl could understand how she felt. If he lost Carol, he wasn't sure he would know how to go on either. But to be the one to do it himself? _Fuck._

Reeling from the very thought, he seized her face in his hands, determined for her to understand. "I need you to live!" His eyes burned with desperation. "I promise you, we can get through all this."

Carol shook her head. "Everytime I lose a child, I lose a part of myself. Now there’s only pieces.”

With a resolute gaze, Daryl leaned in closer, his tone crisply defiant as he challenged her. “You ain't broken.”

“I’m not whole. And every day I feel like I'm drowning in emptiness. I just don't know how to keep going."

"Talk to me! That's how. Quit keepin' it all bottled up inside! That's not helpin'.”

He lowered his voice. "I'll always be there for you, Carol," he staunchly avowed. "Whatever it is. You don’t have to go through it alone.”

A sad smile quivered on her lips. "But I don't want to burden you with—"

"Stop that shit right now.” His voice was firm, yet gentle as his thumbs pressed into her wet cheeks, refusing to let her thought take root. “You ain’t never been a burden, Carol. _Never_. You hear me? Hell, that's what friends do, right? Listen?"

Drowning in a flood of tears, Carol nodded, placing her hands over his. He brought them to rest in his lap, entwining his fingers in hers. She clung to him, squeezing hard as if anchoring herself to him, searching his eyes to gain purchase. Daryl maintained a steady gaze to keep her afloat. "Yeah," he said, squeezing back, lending her his strength. "You just hold on. I got you." She gripped tighter; his gaze never wavered. It seemed to help her because she breathed heavily, her shoulders heaving before they finally grew slack as she leaned against him. Surrendering.

Carol's sobbing gradually started to subside. She began to settle and calm, easing her head onto his shoulder. He enfolded her in his arms once again. "Still love you," he stated freely, realizing just how much she needed to hear it. He hugged her securely, his fingers curling in her hair as he planted another kiss on her head.

Carol wrapped her arm around him and squeezed back. "Quit," she said. "You're gonna make me start crying again."

"That's alright," he insisted, infusing his voice with a bit of cheer. "Whatever you gotta do. Got all night."

A delicate smile began to sprout on her lips. "You always say the right thing."

He scoffed, pulling his head back slightly to peer down at her. "Maybe you are crazy."

She nudged him, and he grinned, nestling her against his chest. _Closer._ He felt her sigh and relax a little more.

Quietly holding each other, they watched the stars twinkling in the night sky. After a while, his skin began to tingle, and he realized that Carol was staring at him.

"What?"

Her eyes glinted as if she was pondering something, but she shook her head, hesitant to say at first. She was playing with the bracelet he had given her, fiddling with the string. "Did you ever think we'd be this close back at the quarry?"

"Hell no," he replied with a chuckle, remembering how annoyed he was by her kindness. "But I'm glad we are."

"Really?"

"Hell yeah. Bein' friends with you is probably the best decision I ever made."

"Probably?" Mischief gleamed in her eyes.

He chuckled. "Probably." His tone was certain. Definite.

A warm feeling spread through his chest as Daryl leaned a little further into her, turning once more to look out into the night. The air was cool and gentle, soothing him like a balm as it whispered against his skin. He wished the same for Carol.

"So, no regrets?"

Daryl frowned, hating that she was still plagued with doubt. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d probably be out there on my own. God knows where. Just a miserable old fool. All sad and lonely. Dirty as hell. Wishin’ I’d had the good sense to listen to you.”

With a tilt of her head, she grinned, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “I didn’t mean about me. I meant in general.”

Looking down, he nodded, not really wanting to think about it. "Might have one or ten."

"I guess you can't survive this awful world without some,” she realized. There was a pause as she let it sink in. Then she pressed into his side, prodding him gently with her elbow. A subtle hint that she wanted him to share.

He sighed. "Ain't gonna let me off easy, huh?"

"You don't have to," she said, shaking her head dismissively, letting him off the hook.

"Nah, fair's fair,” he conceded, knowing he owed her the same. He paused in contemplation because he wasn't sure where to begin. “I was a total asshole to Beth after the prison fell." He let out a puff of air along with his remorse. "She was tough though and wouldn't take any of my bullshit. Girl had a sack on her," he said fondly. "Just like Maggie. Hershel would have been proud." His head bowed down towards his boots as he felt the loss of them. "But...I was just grievin' and tryin' not to care. You know?"

Daryl looked up to see a playful smirk rising on the corners of Carol’s lips. "That old move?" she teased. "You're not very good at it, you know that, right?"

He snorted. "Yeah. Think I’m startin’ to get it." Turning his head, Daryl gazed at Carol, her blue eyes were shining and an ache welled in his chest when he considered how much he cared about her. How deep it went. What he was willing to do to make sure she was alright. He sucked in a breath, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear that had blown across her face, wondering if maybe she _could_ see it. That perhaps he really was that transparent.

A sheepish grin rose partway on his lips until he realized his distraction. He wasn’t yet finished baring his big secret. It pressed on his shoulders causing him to lean forward. Putting his elbows on his knees, he bit at the skin around his fingernail.

"But I think my biggest regret was losin’ my temper at Negan after he killed Abraham. God, I lost it. Charged at him. Wanted to kill him. But of course, it wasn’t that easy. So...as punishment for that...he killed Glenn, too.” His eyes burning, he shook his head, wishing he could take it all back. “Now Little Hershel's growin' up without his father."

The weight of the sacrifice sat heavily in the silence. Carol put her hand on his shoulder as he wiped his grief away.

Daryl shifted, turning towards her. "Do you understand now why I'm so worried? Anger…it blinds you if you don't keep it in check. Don't want you makin' the same mistake. And if you keep at it like you are, you're gonna get yourself killed. Or maybe someone else in the process. And as bad as it is, it could become a whole lot worse. Just like that,” Daryl said, snapping his fingers. “And none of it, none of it at all is ever gonna bring Henry back."

"Can't lose you," he declared, cupping her head just behind her ear, “'cause there will never be another you.”

Carol dabbed at her tears. "You should have more than just me, Daryl."

He held her steady. “I know. I'm tryin'. But it ain't the same. You know what I mean?" He stared at Carol, hoping she understood what he was trying to tell her. It certainly would make it a lot easier.

But she shook her head. “You just have to give it a chance.”

He frowned; she wasn’t getting it. Together they had something special that neither of them shared with anyone else. But Daryl was certain that if he just blurted it out she would become more defensive. Or run. He had to get her to figure it out on her own. Scratching at the scruff on his chin, he took a deep breath before carefully proceeding, keeping his voice soft and earnest as he tried to lead her to the truth.

"How come you ain't with the King no more? What happened?"

Carol pulled away, casting him a look of affliction. "Henry's gone."

"So? He’s your husband. Shouldn’t he be the one you lean on? For better or worse, ain’t it?"

Carol shrugged. “After Henry, I just couldn’t do it anymore.”

His eyes narrowed in confusion.

“Pretend,” she clarified.

“It was always about Henry. About keeping him safe. Ezekiel is a good man, so I thought it would be different. After Lizzie, I just felt so empty. _Hollow._ I kept looking for something to fill the space. Something that made sense to me to help me find my place. Keep me from drifting. And Henry gave that to me. Gave me hope. That I could take a risk. Try again. I guess I just wanted to believe in the fairy tale. That I could finally live in peace. Have a life worth living instead of—” Sniffling, she shook her head. “A fool’s dream. Believing that it was possible to have a family again.”

He winced from the pain in her words. "Ain't foolish." He rubbed her arm. “It’s still possible. You _got_ a family,” he emphasized.

Carol smiled sadly. “A family of my own. I’m a mother without a child,” she explained, her voice cracking as she spilled out her sorrow. “It's the most awful thing there is. There's not even a word for it. It's that terrible.

She trembled and shook. "They were my life. My hope. My everything. And I failed every one of them. I don’t even know who I am without them. I’m just... _existing_."

Daryl watched helplessly as tears ravaged her cheeks, knowing there wasn't anything he could do to take her pain away. But he reached for her anyway, embracing her with all the love he had to give. Determined for her to have it all. Every bit. To fill her up until she was overflowing. So there would be no room left for her to hate herself. However long it took, he would love her.

And love her.

And love her.

And love her.

Fingers weaving in her hair, he soothed her scalp with his fingertips as she poured out her grief. Daryl understood that she was heartbroken. The significance of what she lost. But he didn’t believe she couldn’t find that peace again. That she was empty. He knew there was plenty of love left inside her. And he wanted to help her find it.

“Hey, you’re still here,” he assured her, squeezing her arm to prove it. “And you got people who need you. People who still care about you."

She pushed back. “I _know_ ," she huffed, dragging her sleeve across her cheeks to dry them. “And Alpha’s still a threat! I can’t just do nothing. I can’t!"

Daryl tilted his head to the side, frustrated by her relentlessness. "Ain’t askin' you to sit on your hands. But who taught you that you gotta do everything on your own?”

It stopped her and made her think. “I don’t know. I just got tired of feeling helpless. Of doing nothing to stop— I _let_ Ed hurt me. Even when I tried to leave, I was too scared to be on my own.”

“So, now you have to do everything on your own to prove, what? That you can?”

“Maybe.”

He lifted her chin, gazing steadily into her eyes. “Listen to me. You’re the strongest person I know, Carol. And you’re plenty capable of doin’ whatever the hell it is you put your mind to. But bein’ on your own, isolatin’, gettin’ stuck in your head with the same damn nonsense replayin’ over and over? That’s the shit that makes you weak. Reckless. Thought you came back to Alexandria ‘cause you wanted to heal.”

“I did,” she insisted. “I came back because I needed your help.”

“Did I?” he asked pointedly, releasing her. He wasn’t sure. This was going so terribly.

“Of course you did! You listened. Distracted me. Let me do what I needed to find some peace. Being back here has been hard. I can’t forget it. It stays with me. But when I'm with you, it seems more bearable somehow. I hate it when we’re not talking.”

“Me too. But lately, it’s like you’re not even there. You’re here.” He tapped her on the head. "You forgot we're a team."

The truth seemed to strike a nerve, and she got defensive. “When you get upset you pull away, too. Makes me really worry sometimes. It was hard for me when you were out there, alone, looking for Rick. There were times when I just needed to hear your voice to remind me that things were okay. I didn't like it. You should be with people.”

He nodded. He knew he wasn't innocent in this mess they made. But that was before. Now she was doing the same. "You mean, like how you've been off on that damned boat? And out there, chasin’ revenge every chance you get? How do you think that's been for me?"

Eyes widening, Carol drew her head back in realization and sighed. "You’re right. I'm sorry. Boy, we really are two peas in a pod, aren't we?"

Grunting, he agreed. “A double capper,” he clarified.

She smiled. Daryl took a breath and met her halfway.

"Guess I stayed out there so long ‘cause there was nothin’ left for me in Alexandria. Rick was gone, and you were with the King, and I just felt alone again. Searchin' for his body just gave me an excuse not to feel how much it hurt to lose you."

"You didn’t lose me," she argued. “I wasn’t _gone_ gone. I was in the Kingdom.”

“Felt like the same thing.”

Her brow knitted, and she placed a hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t stop caring about you.”

He shrugged. "I know. Me neither. I wanted you to be happy. It's just...hard when people leave. Never been good with change. Wanted things to stay the same. But I get that they can’t. That you needed...more.”

She ran her fingers through his hair. “There were so many times when I tried to reach out, but it felt like I only pushed you further away. You were angry.”

Angry? Hell, he’d been jealous. And he _had_ kept his distance.

“I knew you were grieving,” explained Carol. “And I just didn’t want you to be alone with it.”

He nodded. “It was Henry who finally made me see it.” Daryl wanted her to see it too.

Her eyes swelled, filling with water, but she smiled. “That’s so like him.”

Daryl smiled with her. “He was a good kid.”

She scowled. “What does being good get you in this world?”

He grimaced at her bitterness. “That what you really think? That good people can’t survive?” His tone softened. “That you ain’t good?”

She blinked and another tear slid down her cheek. Daryl felt his heart break a little more. He pulled her into a hug, kissing her forehead.

“You’re not a bad person,” he asserted, her hair tickling his cheek. “Tough when you gotta be, sure. But you fight for what’s right. You fight to protect.” He leaned back to look her in the eyes. “Henry, he was a lot like you, you know. Brave. Carin’. Stood up for what he believed in. He knew Lydia was just scared, all alone in that cell. Watchin’ the two of them interact…” He smiled. “Hell, it reminded me of how it was with us back on the farm. Remember? You knew me better than I knew myself.”

“Things were different then,” she said dismissively. “You were different. And so was I.”

The wind picked up, carrying the faint floral scent of jasmine and tuberose and causing a strand of Carol's long hair to blow across her face. Breathing deeply, he brushed it away from her eyes in the same manner she had done to him dozens of times before. Deliberately. Tenderly. Times when he needed to be consoled and reminded that someone cared.

“No,” he said firmly, his fingers lingering to smooth the soft tendrils at her temple. “We helped each other change. For the better. We still can. You know it’s true, that’s why you came back.”

Something shifted in her eyes, and she nodded. "I feel it less when I'm with you."

He smiled modestly, glad to know he helped her feel better in some small way.

Carol leaned against him. "I could never talk to Ezekiel like this. Always felt like I had to be strong for the both of us."

Daryl nodded, encouraging her. She was almost there.

"You've seen me at my worst, but I always feel safe. Like I don't have to pretend. But when I do, you see right through me."

"Yeah," he agreed, knowing that was exactly how he felt about Carol, too.

“You see me.” Carol tilted her head and gazed at him fondly, a look of recognition flashing in her eyes. Her fingers weaved through his. " _This_ is… real."

Daryl nodded again, thumbing the tears from her cheeks.

She squeezed his hand. “Being with you feels...” Carol trailed off, searching for the word.

"Like home."

He smiled approvingly. _Finally_.

"So, is that like a place you wanna stick around?"

Her face brightened, and she nudged him with her shoulder as he gathered her closer, a softhearted snicker falling from his lips. Carol eased her head on his shoulder.

"There's no place like home," she said with a sigh.

He rested his head against hers. "Nope."

A cozy silence tucked in around them as they settled in each other’s arms. It didn’t take long for their breathing to synchronize. In. Out. In. Out. A slow, deep, steady rhythm. Almost hypnotizing. Daryl lost track of time simply enjoying the pleasant stillness of the night. Until Carol yawned.

"Shit, it's late,” he realized, shifting his position. “Should get some sleep if you wanna head out with me in the morning to look for Lydia."

Her brow twitched, but she nodded. "Okay," she said with resignation.

They stood and went inside. At the staircase, they slowly parted, heading their separate ways. Daryl paused before going down to his room, watching Carol as she lingered at the bottom of the stairs. Looking a shade paler, her hand was poised on the bannister, but she made no move to ascend.

“You okay?” Daryl inquired. He took a few steps towards her to see for himself.

“Um,” She hesitated, biting her lip, then looked at him with uncertainty in her eyes. Her fingers rubbed the smooth wooden surface of the railing before gripping it tight. "Would you mind… would you spend the night with me?" she asked in a small voice.

Frozen in place, he eyed her warily, his heart picking up its pace. He wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly.

"My dreams," she explained, her voice weakening to a whisper. “I don’t want to be alone.”

She was afraid, he realized just as his own fear began to pinch in his throat. So, he forced himself to swallow it. Taking her hand, he caressed the soft skin on the back with his thumb. “You ain’t.”

Exhaling heavily, she looked relieved.

He followed her up the stairs and into her room. After lighting a small lantern on the dresser, she closed the door behind them. There was an awkward pause as they examined the queen-sized bed at the center of the modest chamber and then glanced at each other for confirmation, before they slowly walked over to the bed in unison.

“I usually sleep on this side,” she stated, indicating her preference, and set the lantern down on the nightstand.

He nodded his understanding and made his way to the other side.

Eyeing each other, they drew back the blanket and sat down on the bed to take off their boots, catching glimpses of each other and smiling nervously over their shoulders. Then, without a word, they climbed into the bed together, pulling the blanket over themselves as they slid down into the warm cocoon.

Adjusting her position, Carol moved to turn off the lantern, covering them in darkness. Then she scooted next to him, laying her head on his shoulder while he wrapped his arm around her, snuggling her against his torso. _Closer._ Her hand rested on his chest. She fit perfectly beside him, he thought reverently as a tranquil sense of awe began to seep into his core. They sighed at the same time.

Soft moonlight filtered through the curtains as the solace from their embrace settled inside them.

"Thank you for staying," she said into the crook of his neck. Her warm breath tingling his skin and somehow calming his nerves even more.

"Ain't no place I'd rather be." The truth of his words hung gently in the air like a lullaby.

He felt her relax against him. And nothing in the world had ever felt so right. So perfect. He breathed in and drew the sensation deep inside, letting it sink into his bones.

Daryl ran his fingers through the long tresses of her hair, soothing her to sleep, soothing himself with her softness. He held her all night. Even in his deep and dreamless sleep, his body knew enough not to let her go.

In the morning, the light pouring into the room stirred them both awake. Carol burrowed into his side, shrinking from the day, but then seemed to finally accept it as she shifted again, rolling away and propping herself up on her elbow. She peered down at him with a lazy smile, eyes still hooded with sleep.

"I haven't slept that well in forever." Her words were easy and light as she expressed her relief.

Yawning, Daryl stretched his arms over his head and nodded his agreement. Then he rolled towards her, mirroring her position, resting his head in his hand. "Glad you finally got some sleep."

They eyed each other with mutual admiration while time ticked on. It lengthened and expanded as a warm sensation spread throughout his chest.

"We're having a moment, aren't we?" asked Carol, finally breaking the silence.

Daryl nodded, pleased she was right there with him, noticing it too. There weren't any walls left between them.

"What do you think it means?"

Daryl shrugged, reaching out to pull a piece of fuzz from her hair. "Ain't no expert. But I think...maybe...we're evolvin'."

"Yeah, evolving," Carol echoed, her eyes twinkling.

His fingers halted, tangling in her hair as he studied her. "Y'alright with that?"

Carol nodded, her cheeks flushing.

"Good," he said, tapping the tip of her nose with his finger. "M'gonna hit the shower. Meet you downstairs? We'll head out together."

"What universe did I wake up in?" There was a note of amused bewilderment in her voice. "Did you just volunteer to shower without any prompting?"

Daryl threw back the covers playfully and swung his feet to the floor, stuffing them into his boots. "No one likes a smart ass."

Her giggling trailed behind him as he sauntered away, and he smiled wider than he had in a long, long time.

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this fic comes from the song of the same name from saxophonist Lester Young, which incidentally was the track playing in Daryl's head.


End file.
